


etude

by spicedbreeze



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I'm Sorry, M/M, One Shot, Unrequited Love, but i also love tamaki and haruhi together, but i guess we're all regressing aren't we, etude op 10 no 3, i am in love with this ship, i feel like this is not what the additional tags section is used for but will that stop me?, i have no idea if this sucks or not since i barely even write, i just like talking to myself okay, i made another ending though bc it made me too upset, involves lots of piano, no it won't, sorry if this sucks, the last time i was so serious about a fic was like eighth grade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:01:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29340252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedbreeze/pseuds/spicedbreeze
Summary: Music fills the room once again. And suddenly, Kyoya could see stars. Everything disappears. He was only looking at Tamaki, his brow furrowed in concentration, breathing in sync with the music. The song comes to a crescendo, and Kyoya’s heart swells.Kyoya didn’t want to play piano. Not after hearing Tamaki play it up close. He was afraid it would shatter underneath his negligent hands.Tamaki tries to teach Kyoya how to play piano.
Relationships: Fujioka Haruhi/Suoh Tamaki, Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hiii sorry if this sucks i just read a lot of good tamakyo fics on here a while ago and felt a burning desire to make one of my own. but we are not going to talk about the fact that i'm writing ohshc fics in 2021. also the piece that's referenced a bunch is chopin's etude op 10 no 3, which i think i learned to play around a year ago (and now have entirely forgotten since i'm depressed and never practice. i also need to stop rambling in the tags/notes sorry). but yeah i really like that song and i think it kind of encompasses how kyoya feels- in the beginning it's just idealistic and longing but quickly becomes overwhelming for him, then regret at the end idk. but yeah plz listen i love chopin so much and maybe that makes me basic but i don't care. anyways i hope this doesn't suck (not that anyone's going to read it lmao i wrote this purely for myself. okay i PROMISE i will shut up now).

Kyoya often avoided the living room; the cold, stoic piano a cruel reminder of his mother’s absence. None of his brothers or his father dared to move it, however; it felt like a betrayal. Maybe they were all in denial, and were hoping one day she’d come back home, sit down, stretch her fingers, and fill the house with warmth once more.  
But until then, the Ootori house was a prison. Kyoya did as much as he could to avoid it. It was too still. Without his mother, it was a lifeless mausoleum, devoid of any passion or spirit or love.  
That was, until the fateful day Tamaki barged in, demanding Kyoya for the kotatsu he’d asked for. Now, Tamaki was the only one who touched the piano at the Ootori residence, often while waiting for Kyoya to finish some important task so they could go out somewhere. Kyoya wouldn’t admit it to himself, but sometimes he pretended to be busy just so Tamaki would play.

* * *

It was April. Tamaki was at his house again.  
“Isn’t it beautiful!” his older sister, Fuyumi, gushed. Kyoya nodded, but it wasn’t just the music that was beautiful to him.  
Kyoya didn’t want to admit it, but Tamaki’s playing still brought Kyoya to tears, 2 years later. His playing seemed to have that effect on everybody. Anyone could sit down and play a few notes, but Tamaki made the piano sing, the string of notes like a spirited summer breeze, dancing around the room, finding a home in Kyoya’s heart.  
Right at that moment he was sitting at the piano, his golden hair glistening under the sunlight from a nearby window, attracting the envy of Rapunzel herself.  
He made it look so effortless, Actually, most things about Tamaki were effortless. His unkempt hair, his easy smiles, his natural charm. His fake smiles seemed to come more easily than Kyoya’s real ones. Sometimes Kyoya envied him. Not his stupidity, but his authenticity. The way he could bring a room to life.  
“Do you know what piece this is?” Fuyumi asked him. “He plays this one a lot, right?”  
“I believe he told me it was 10 op. 3 by Chopin. And you’re right- he plays this one almost every time he comes over.” Kyoya didn’t mention that it was because he always asked Tamaki to play it.  
Tamaki’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. He looked positively radiant. Tamaki was a blithering idiot, but one of the few things he truly excelled in was music. Everything about Tamaki was music. His footsteps across the hall. The delicate fluttering of his eyelashes. The way his eyes crinkled as he greeted Kyoya every morning, upturned grin, ironed uniform, rosy cheeks. 

His sister’s hands were clasped together, and he could see his brothers sitting on the couch out of the corner of his eye. The Ootori siblings almost never sat together in the same room anymore. Not since their mother stopped playing.  
A thought occurred to him. Tamaki was the only one who could make the Ootori house a home. 

He reached the climax of the song. Kyoya had heard this part a thousand times before, and it still left him awestruck. The music quickly grew louder, as did Tamaki’s breathing. Every time he finished a particularly complex measure, Kyoya could hear his sigh of relief. He looked so pleased with himself, the corner of his mouth turned upward in satisfaction.  
Kyoya rarely let himself feel, perhaps because he felt afraid. Not afraid of sadness, of nostalgia or joy, but of love. Everytime he heard Tamaki play, he felt himself fall a little deeper under his spell, and it scared him. Tamaki, and his honey-golden locks, his violet dewdrop eyes, his musical laughter. Kyoya rarely let himself feel, but Tamaki made him feel. 

“Hey Kyoya, come here,” he said, still at the piano.  
Kyoya reluctantly obliged. Tamaki moved over to leave space for him.  
“What?” Kyoya asked, mere inches away from Tamaki. He was smiling like an idiot.  
“I’ll teach you to play.”  
Kyoya raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’d be any good at that?”  
“It doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or not. What matters is you feel good doing it. You feel good making music, and seeing other people enjoy that music.”  
Kyoya shrugged. “It can’t hurt, I suppose. How do we start?”  
“Well, you should probably learn the keys first.” He let out an effortless, breezy laugh. “This, right here, is middle C.” He lightly grasped Kyoya’s wrist and placed his index finger on it.  
“Middle C,” Kyoya repeated. “I can’t make music with only this.”  
“It’s fine! I’ll teach you chords instead, that’ll be faster! And maybe we can play a duet too! It can be our next host club activity! I’m sure everyone will love it!” His eyes were shining, as they always did whenever Tamaki was blessed with another grand idea. He beamed at Kyoya, his eyes crinkling in delight. Kyoya felt his stomach curl,  
“Here, let me show you how.”  
Tamaki placed his hand over Kyoya’s to guide him to the correct notes. His touch was light, and warm, and soft, and so loving, and a million other things. It sent Kyoya into a frenzy. Just a simple touch, and he was losing his mind. However out of character for him it was, Kyoya didn’t want Tamaki to let go. He wanted Tamaki to hold on forever, just the two of them in this moment, the sun streaming in through the windows, their knees touching, their lips inches away from each other, Tamaki’s warm breath close enough for Kyoya to feel.  
“That’s it; now you’ve got it.”  
Their hands were still touching. Kyoya was playing the correct chord now, but Tamaki hadn’t let go. Kyoya desperately prayed, to whatever God was out there, that this was real, and that he wasn’t going to open his eyes.  
Tamaki looked at Kyoya like he was the only person in the room. Kyoya knew it was selfish, but he wanted Tamaki to only look at him, like he and Tamaki were the only two people left on Earth. He wanted that love only for himself.  
“This is hopeless. It’s going to take forever,” Kyoya grumbled.  
Tamaki laughed, igniting something inside of Kyoya, an all-destructive fire, threatening to burn him alive.  
“Well, of course it will. You weren’t expecting to be able to play a Chopin etude by the end of the evening, were you?” His eyes were full of life. He lightly punched Kyoya.  
“Well, maybe I was,” Kyoya huffed.  
“Let’s try again. And play the proper chord this time, for Heaven’s sake! It’s a G chord, not a C.”  
“It’s fine. I’m fine just watching you play.”  
Tamaki smiled again, and Kyoya’s stomach twisted. He began playing Chopin’s etude op.10 no 3 again. Kyoya’s favorite. His pale, bony hands effortlessly glided across the ivory as if he was caressing the piano. Music fills the room once again. And suddenly, Kyoya could see stars. Everything disappears. He was only looking at Tamaki, his brow furrowed in concentration, breathing in sync with the music. The song comes to a crescendo, and Kyoya’s heart swelled.  
Kyoya didn’t want to play piano. Not after hearing Tamaki play it up close. He was afraid it would shatter underneath his negligent hands. Tamaki was so graceful, so elegant and effortless. Kyoya was too clunky, too mechanical. It would be putting the music to shame. Kyoya had never felt so trapped in all his life. He was trapped behind the metal bars of the Ootori name. He could never be as free as Tamaki. Tamaki’s wings are fully outstretched, and he glides through the air with ease. Kyoya is stuck on the ground, his wings clipped at birth.  
He looked at Tamaki once again. He stopped playing and opted to hold eye contact with Kyoya. Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of his every sense: his quickened breathing, the fact that their knees were still touching, the twisting and turning and squeezing of his stomach, his desire to just reach his hand out and run it through Tamaki’s golden hair.  
Did he feel it too?  
“Did you make me stop playing for a staring competition?” Tamaki finally said.  
Kyoya laughed dryly. “I didn’t do anything. Honestly Tamaki, I wouldn’t expect someone as childish and stupid as you to be able to produce such music.”  
“Are you complimenting me? Wow, I can’t believe this.”  
Kyoya frowned. “I would never do that.”  
He laughed again. Kyoya’s heart was alight. He found himself overcome with warmth. Tamaki started playing again. Everyone had left the room, so it was only them two.  
The song ended. Kyoya felt as if he was gasping for breath, while Tamaki, painfully unaware of the impact of his playing, pulled Kyoya closer. Tamaki placed his hand on Kyoya’s thigh, immediately sending a jolt of electricity up his spine. Kyoya’s visceral reaction was to scoot over quickly. Tamaki frowned.  
“What gives?”  
Kyoya shook his head. He delicately stood up, his knees about to buckle. One more second sitting on that bench next to Tamaki, and he was sure he would cup his cheek and kiss him. It was unbearable. He felt the familiar pull of temptation every time he so much looked at Tamaki, and it was only heightened as he sat next to him. He was constantly aching for Tamaki’s gentle touch, but when it was actually happening, he couldn’t handle it.  
This wasn’t love, was it? Kyoya didn’t believe he even knew how to love. But if this wasn’t the feeling everyone spoke of, what was it?  
It had to be love, for what else could explain the way his heart swelled when Tamaki’s voice called out to him? What else could explain his palms constantly itching to touch Tamaki, to run his fingers through his hair? 

“Are you just gonna leave?” Tamaki asked. “I came all the way here to see you, you know.”  
“I just remembered I have to study for the math exam tomorrow. You should probably head home too.”  
“Kyoya-”  
“Sorry.”  
“I can just stay here, and study with you. Like we always do?”  
“You can’t,” Kyoya said. 

He left.

* * *

It is April. Precisely one year later. The lazy sun shines through the upstairs window in the music room. It was a clear skies, billowing clouds kind of day. Everyone else had gone home, but Kyoya is still packing up his laptop and books. Across the room, Tamaki is playing piano again, and Haruhi is watching.  
“I’ll teach you to play.”  
Haruhi scoffs. "I don't think I'd be any good at that."  
"Oh, don't be ridiculous.  
“Uh, okay Senpai,” Haruhi says reluctantly.  
Tamaki places his hand over Haruhi’s and guides her to the correct note. She blushes.  
“That’s it, now you’ve got it.”  
Kyoya can only watch from the other end of the room, Tamaki’s every word like a dagger slowly being twisted inward.  
“I’m fine just listening to you, honestly,” she says. Tamaki nods and picks back up where he left off before.  
He is performing Chopin's 3rd etude, op 10, Kyoya's favorite song. But for her this time.  
Tamaki looks at Haruhi like she is the only person left on Earth.  
He had been so stupid to think he was special to Tamaki. That Tamaki wanted to teach him how to play because he loved him. It was such a selfish thought.  
It was better that he fell in love with Haruhi. Kyoya knew he couldn’t love Tamaki in the way he deserved to be loved. They were, after all, complete opposites. Tamaki is graceful; he’s flexible, like a cattail dancing in the wind. Kyoya is hard as bones. Tamaki is kind, his words sweet as buttercream, enveloping you in warmth. Kyoya is a machine: cold, and calculating on the surface, yet ruminating on every little thing that goes through his head until he is sure he will explode. And, most importantly, Tamaki loves. He loves passionately, fiercely, beautifully, freely. And Kyoya can’t. Because he is a coward. Because he is still trapped in Ootori expectations. Because he is Kyoya.  
He’s afraid. He’s afraid of hurting Tamaki with his own inexperience. His own outward callousness is too dangerous. He doesn’t know how to love. Tamaki didn’t deserve that.  
He didn’t deserve Tamaki either.  
But Tamaki made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could love. Tamaki was the only one who could unlock Kyoya’s doors, the only one who could knock down the walls Kyoya had put up. Tamaki was the only person who could really see Kyoya, and Kyoya only ever let Tamaki see him. He thought he was special.

He can hear Tamaki kiss Haruhi on the cheek, and all the “mon amour’s” and “je t'aime’s” that follow, and he pretends he doesn’t notice when a tear rolls down his cheek.  
He desperately wishes he hadn’t told Tamaki to go home that day.


	2. alternative ending lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally put zero effort into this i only wrote it because i was almost crying during my econ lecture about how tamaki would never love kyoya back and i was so distraught at my own crappy writing that i had to make this to make myself feel better lmao. i mean i feel like in canon kyoya would probably let tamaki be with haruhi anyway and just like carry his feelings to his grave but that makes me so Upset but maybe this is because i am a kyoya stan lmaooo i'm sorry just episode 24 yall plz. but yeah ig it takes place before the whole "flash to the present" thing in the last chapter.

“No, I’m not going to just leave like that. Something’s clearly wrong.”   
“Please stop bothering me, Tamaki.” Kyoya regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. It’s not like Tamaki wasn’t used to Kyoya’s curt, frigid replies, but Kyoya so desperately wanted to tell him the truth for once.   
“Kyoya, please.” His tone was insistent; desperate almost.   
Kyoya willed himself to say it. To just tell Tamaki how he really felt. He willed himself with everything in him.   
“No.”   
Tamaki stood up and walked over to Kyoya, grabbing his hand. He squeezed it lightly.  
“Are you mad at me?”   
Kyoya suddenly felt a pang of guilt. “Heavens, no. I’m not mad at you. If anything, I’m mad at myself.”   
“Is it about the piano? Or is it something else?”   
“I...well…”   
Red sprang to his cheeks. Tamaki suddenly gave him a knowing smile.   
“Why are you smiling at me like that?”   
Tamaki leaned over and pressed his lips to Kyoya’s, and the dissonant chord ringing in Kyoya’s ears for 2 years had finally been resolved.   
When Tamaki finally pulled away, Kyoya was left breathless.   
“Why did you-”  
“Come on Kyoya, you weren’t exactly subtle back there.”   
The redness in Kyoya's cheeks darkened.   
“Does this mean that you…”   
“That I like you? Of course I do. I have ever since I met you. Since we went to that beach in Kyoto.”   
Kyoya found himself finally able to breathe again. And now that he knew he could, he leaned in to kiss Tamaki again.


End file.
